Bird
by Tristana
Summary: Envy's birth as an Homonculus and some angsty musing. There's a hole in my chest where my heart used to be, if you're looking for emptiness, I'm what you need... Songfic: Bird, by Tristania


Title: Bird

Author: Devilia

Disclaimer: I don't' own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I don't mind, as long as I can write fanfictions. I don't own Tristania's work either. Snif.

Summary: My little musing concerning Envy. A young boy was hit by fates and becomes the most deadly Homonculus ever. Songfic based on the song 'Bird', by Tristania. (It's so sad…)

Pairing: For now, none. It's an Envy-centric fic, so if you hate him, you can read and then send me a review to tell me that he's not so horrible, or you can press the back button. Anyway, I'd rather not receive flame, since it's a rather small one-shot. There are some OC, such as the first Wrath and Pride. These are mine but I don't really mind if someone else uses them – as long as this person tells me.

Warning: Today, I feel like being nice. Just the usual: angst, death and reflexion. You know me, right?

**BIRD**

**Chapter one: A sparrow on the ground…**

"You've never needed me. But I shall remain, till you finally remember what you wanted to ask before you died."

And with that she was gone, lithe shadowy figure in the darkness, her quiet footsteps fading in the night. The young boy didn't know why but he had a feeling that life was far from being long. He returned home, to his mother. His father was still on a journey but he ought to come back soon.

He allowed his mother to fuss around him, seeing that he wasn't wearing a coat while it was freezing outside. She sent him to his room soon enough and he didn't even have the wits to complain that a nearly fourteen he wasn't a child anymore. Curiously, his mother seemed more and more worried about his health. He didn't know why, nor did he care.

As he bend over his theories again, he caught a glimpse of a flying crow. Strangely enough, it reminded him of the girl he was talking to. She gave him Alchemy's books that were so rare that he didn't even heard of before she showed them. It mainly dealt with human transmutation. _/Remember, these books are here to help you to understand, not to be used. Nothing is important enough that you would sacrifice your life for. You have to be able to draw the limits of your own knowledge, and respect them./ _When she told him this, he was nine, but over the time, he still have some difficulties to grasp this. What would be the use of a book if you can't use its content practically speaking? And he poured over them, over and over again, letting this knowledge carving itself in his skull.

He wrote until his mother came up for the third time to tell him it was late enough, that he has to sleep. Something she never seemed to bother with before. He finally set his pen down for the last time, blew out the remaining candle and fall on his bed, sound asleep.

He didn't notice the raven perched on the windowsill.

_A friendly push_

_Off the cliff – is all I need_

_A sudden change or a smile_

_Could make me feel alive_

_Anything to take the ignorance away_

He felt like he was on fire, poison filling his lunges. She poisoned him, she who should have vowed to protect him. His own blood and flesh. And he was dying. It was sad, really, that he couldn't cry.

_Flashback_

_He told her about his research. It wasn't as if she had never peered at his notes, but still. And her smile turned into a scheming smirk, her eyes glinting with a new-found evil light. And he knew he made a mistake. Throughout his research, he was defiant toward his father, mainly because the man was never there when needed. Not that he trusted blindly his mother, but at that point, he thought that he'd better be honest. And from that time, he knows that honesty only brings complications to a usually fairly simple life._

_One day that he came home, he found her bending over his notes – part of, because he wasn't confident enough in her to give her everything. And she knew that. But she didn't do anything. That was secondary in her mindset. As he peered above her shoulder, he saw that she was reading that particular bit dealing with a possible immortality due to a correctly-processed human transmutation. Even if he, himself, wasn't fond of the prospect of dying in order to prove his theory._

_But it seemed that his mother WAS. So, she turned around to watch him intently. She held a little bag in her end. Despite he was somehow aware that this couldn't be something good for him, he asked. And she replied in a rather... demonstrative way, winding the almost intangible powder toward his face. He sneezed, but as he did so, powder was breathed in his system. It smelled of mercury. In fact, it was mercury. The aggressive substance clinging at his skin and – already – lunge's cells, he spun on his heels and ran, in a rather childish and poor attempt to get the poison out of his system._

_End flashback_

He was lying beneath a tree, breathing hard, and coughing. That was when he heard a faint croaking noise. Looking up, he saw it. The large crow he saw years ago, when he was still a young child pretending to be a man. He didn't want it to turn, though. The creature seemed to acknowledge his silent plea, because it flew and landed right beside him, allowing him to caress the velvety feathers. Its beak nudged at his hand, in a kind of comforting manner.

And he wondered, could it be that the crow was… Her? If so, how could it be, she wasn't human, was she. And suddenly he remembered a book she gave him. It was a book of ancient lore, but there were some stories. One of them was the story of a man who had several daughters who died. The one remaining was not acting like a girl and she was constantly defying his authority. It happened that the mother of this girl was an alchemist. Eventually, after receiving a particularly nasty blow, this girl died, breaking her neck, bleeding to death. The mother attempted a sort of human transmutation, trying to convey her living strength to her remaining child. It failed and the woman died, suffering horribly and the corpse of the girl was never found. The only thing some people remembered about her was that she was too prideful to live… and her affinity for crows.

He didn't know why but he had a feeling that the girl he was talking to when he was little was this same woman. It was stupid, really, she would be over than three hundred years now.

_/Sometimes, people are so afraid of death that they are willing to do anything to bargain. But Death is not a Lady willing to bargain with lowly humans./_

He remembered something about their discussion. Once, she was upset because he told her about the eventuality that one could replace a life by another.

_Flashback_

"_And what after that mister? What the hell did I tell you?" She often got angry when it comes to life itself, so he usually avoid the topic, but there._

"'_Cause every life is unique.." he mumbled. He was sulking already because with that single statement, he knew that his theory was definitely not viable. _

"_Exact. Plus, life is something priceless. That's why no one can bargain with the Gate. You can't fool it with that kind of reasoning. And the law of equivalent exchange, fundamentally, forbid that kind of exchange, you know, when someone die, it's painful for the survivor. But imagine the suffering of those who are 'back' but not whole? Isn't it awful?"_

"_Sure, it is. But isn't there a way? I mean, everything has an antagonist…"_

"_I see what you mean. And let me be frank with you, young apprentice : there's certainly a way, but men haven't thought about it yet. Can you guess why?" She wasn't trying to make him fell little and stupid but he actually had to pull back a snide remark._

"_They are not ready."_

"_Yes." Suddenly, she looked exhausted, and very old. "You know, the same goes for the Stone. Everyone should be able to reach it. But the power it holds would be even superior to the Gate's. Plus, if it's found, despite what I just told you, then, let's hope it won't be as disastrous for the world of men as I think it would be."_

_End flashback_

She was so bitter back then. But eventually, if the need to be immortal, and the lust for power due to the Stone didn't exist, then surely his father wouldn't travel so much, hurrying after a mere ideal that maybe doesn't exist. And his mother wouldn't have poisoned him.

He stayed out, hiding himself from his own mother. He didn't want to see her greedy eyes as he pass out. He was too young to die, but again, it was useless to argue. He felt his strength leaving him, like an endless stream of blood. As his vision started to darkened, he saw the crow morphing into a young woman with blood red hair, strange black clothes and a sad smile tugging her lips as she extended her hand to grab his, holding him until everything went black and the coughing finally went silent. Then she whispered: "I'll see you on the other side."

_All illusions lost_

_All colours faded_

_A senseless pain_

_Transparent _

_Imperfection_

_Falling_

_Like a sparrow to the ground_

_Leave no trace of life_

He opened his eyes only to find the one he had once called mother bend upon his frame. If he recorded correctly, he was more than probably lying on an array. He tried to move but found himself too weak to make a move.

"Don't move" she snapped.

"As if I could, anyway," was the matter-of-factly spoken answer.

"Take these." She shoved shiny red stones in his more than pale hand. He looked at them closely before everything clicked in his mind. Those stones were imperfect attempt of Philosopher's Stone. He felt like he was getting sick.

They were darker than the one he had seen before, which only means that she was closer to the real one than ever. But he couldn't ponder anymore on how's and why's cause his body was screaming to his mind to shut the fuck and just absorb the stones already. Which he did. He ate any red stone he was given, and by the time he was finished, the pain that was burning his insides had faded. The hunger remained, though.

"Good boy," she said, before standing and leaving him alone. He felt… strange. Stronger than he ever had, even if the remnant of his poisoning were still fresh in his mind.

He hated her. Hated her for leaving, once again, for having sacrificed innocent lives for her own sick purposes, for using him as a mean to an end. Because he was pretty well aware that he wasn't the first one who was fed red stones. Another thought bloomed in his spirit: as she was with him, he smelled some kind of smell of death and decay. Suddenly, he remembered: she had been ill, three years back. His father had hastily come back from his travel and found a way to cure her. He wouldn't tell how, but he did. And then, she had been more reclusive. In fact, he could remember that that smell dwelt around his mother since that time – not quite, but still. Which meant… That his father had saved her using Red Stones and that now her body degrading. _How gross! _Not that there was anything he could do about it. She was dependant on the stones, and she needed to see if human transmutation was possible.

Dante was trying to cheat Death herself and doing so, she sold her soul along with his life. He was nothing but the result of a failed experiment.

He tried to get up, and this time, succeeded. He walks to and fro in the ballroom before going outside. Only to be greeted by a grey-tinted wasteland. The ancient city of Xerxes no longer buzzing with life but silent, like a tomb. Thousands souls used by one woman to get the son she smartly killed back to life.

"Nonsense." The words were spoken so quietly, as if afraid of disturbing the dead. He didn't need to turn around to know she was standing on the right edge of the balcony. Curious, he turned nonetheless. And it was like the first time he really saw her. After, he'd only seen her sporadically when he was a child, and still wrapped in darkness. But now… She was seated on the balcony, her legs swinging nonchalantly. She was pale as Death, blackish red hair flowing in irregular strands. She wore some kind of black clothes consisting of a short skirt, a sleeveless top, a black glove and another one, fingerless, and a pair of black boots. The most disturbing, and something her had never seen was an Ouroboros tattooed with red ink on the left side of her neck. She turned to watch him and he felt like pinned down by violet – almost red – eyes, so much like a cat's. She smiled sadly.

"Now, you see and know. We are both in the same predicament. Some 'failed experiment' to be cast away. My mother destroyed a whole county in order to make the stones she fed me on. Now, I don't need them anymore, 'cause no one ever harm me."

"What are we, then? No longer humans, we are dead and yet we can talk and see, but not feel."

"Homonculus." She whispered. As if remembering some kind of sick joke, she laughed. "We are here to make humans pay for what they made us, I guess."

"I hate her. I hate every single human on earth who ever thought that human transmutation was no big deal!"

"Including yourself."

"I know. We can't die, right?"

"You can, only if you are able to hurt yourself so badly that the stones in your system decide to see another place, and that there's no one to give you more. Simple. But do you really think she will let you be? You are dangerous, to her, to the others. And she won't forget that, believe me. She won't let you die. Also, to die you need the remains of your original body."

"You are bitter, how can it be you are not dead yet?"

"'cause my name is Pride, and as such, I value my existence. To be more pragmatic, I'd say it's more because I see no interest in trying. Beside, the explosion blasted away everything, including my remains. I am truly immortal. Much to my displeasure."

"Why is she doing this, then?"

She cast him an odd glance, as if pondering whether or not should she answer. "She wants an army of powerful and devoted… soldier. You are meant to be the first. Not because you are faithful, mark you, but only because you have no choice. Homonculus are not the more powerful creatures, simply because we are not able to do alchemy. But other than that, we have other powers."

"Such as?"

"I have some kind of control over everything dealing with oxygen, and air in general. My capacity to morph into a crow is attached to my being, and I can still use it. I don't know why, but it's rare since I am not supposed to morph."

"Can you…" For the first time he didn't know what to say. He was a new born… How would he know about his own powers? He feels so… malleable. "Feel it?"

"Yeah. Well, let me put it that way. Think about yourself looking like me, exactly."

"Wh-?" But he knew better than to argue and did as requested. He felt a surge of power coursing through his body, it wasn't terrible but he felt like his body was readjusting itself.

"Good. Now, turn around and look at yourself in the mirror." He turned around and saw crimson eyes widening and porcelain skin growing even paler as he yelled.

"What the FUCK is that supposed to BE?"

"You are able to morph into anything you see. Well, any animate thing. I don't really think it possible for you to be able to actually become a fork or something." She looked like she was about to laugh her head off. Mainly because he was pretty pissed off, and she was amused to see what she looks like when in such a mindset. Eventually, the newborn one returned to his original form.

Suddenly, they heard a faint creaking noise and the crow flew away all at once. The newly 'made' Homonculus stared blankly as his creator returned.

She looked like she was about to blow half of the city – only it was already blown up.

"Welcome back, Envy."

_Somebody is knocking at my door_

_Somebody – I think I've seen before_

_I'm trembled and shaken and stirred_

_I wish I could be a bird_

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

So, what do you think about it? I know, there's nothing brillant about it. Anyway, I just want to know if I have to continue or not, seeing that I've already written more but I feel like this fic is gonna be a little bit less angsty - I can't stay in the same mood for too long or I get depressed.

Anyway, reviews are much appreciated. Thanks again for reading!!!

Miss Devilia, the darkside of Dr. Tristana.


End file.
